


Wrath

by The Feels Whale (miscellea)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, you don't mess with his kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellea/pseuds/The%20Feels%20Whale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Stilinski is angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrath

John Stilinski is angry.

It sits in his chest like a hot coal and smolders away, blackening the insides of his ribcage until he feels like he should be exhaling smoke whenever he breathes out. He hasn’t been angry like this in years, not since he met his wife. Not since his son was born.

Fuck.

_Stiles_.

Someone _hurt_ his little boy and made him _lie_ about it.

It’s that last one that galls the most. Stiles has been lying since the beginning of the year with that desperate shiftiness that’s as good or better than a cry for help, but one John can’t seem to answer no matter how hard he tries. The lies aren’t new, but up until now Stiles has always come home _safe_. He’s never missed a family breakfast and his grades haven’t even dipped.

“It was some kids from the opposing team.” Stiles said as his gaze skittered to the left. His narrow shoulders were slumped as if a massive weight was bearing down on him and it was taking all his strength just to pretend like nothing was wrong.

That’s the part that guts John, surer than any knife; the fact that his child has to _look strong_ in front of _him_.

A year ago John would have believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that Stiles would know where to turn if he ever got into trouble over his head. Seven months ago he still would have said that, but now? Now he doesn’t know what to think, except that his son has lied to him.

There were no boys from the opposing team. Both teams did a head count when it became clear some of the players were missing and only the local team was missing anyone… specifically Stiles.

John has seen the results of more beatings than he ever wants to think about.

The bruises on Stiles’s face didn’t come from a pack of hot-headed teenagers who never learned to throw a punch. The damage to Stiles’ cheek and lip are controlled… _precise_. It’s the handiwork of someone who knows where and how to hit to get the best results.

Stiles was beaten by a professional and, judging by the way he’s been walking ever so slightly hunched to the left, the beating didn’t stop at his face… but John knows there won’t be any marks or if there are they won’t surface for days yet.

So he does all he can, which is limited to shaking out some prescription strength Advil, sending his son to bed with every bag of frozen vegetables in the house, and then checking on him throughout the night… although whether he’s checking to see if Stiles is all right or is making sure the boy hasn’t snuck out the window even John can’t really say for sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered. Stiles sleeps like the dead that night and it’s just not usual. Anna was a light restless sleeper and she passed the trait onto their son. Stiles doesn’t just sleep; he tosses, he turns, he rolls himself up into a blanket burrito then kicks all the blankets off, he murmurs, he grumbles, he sighs, and sometimes he sleepwalks. He doesn’t just… _lay_ there.

This, more than anything else, terrifies John and makes him think he’s on the verge of losing the son he loves forever. His Stiles is being replaced by this withdrawn and haggard stranger bit by horrific bit and John cannot stand it.

He _won’t_ stand it.

John has never abused his position as Sheriff, which is one of the reasons he’s run unchallenged for so long. He has served the law his entire life and hopes to do so for the rest of it. He has never accepted or looked sideways at a bribe and he has never used his influence for personal gain… until now.

Everyone has a breaking point; a fulcrum through which they can be cracked in half if only someone could find the right lever. John knows this and accepts it as a fact of life. He has always known, ever since three am on a Sunday morning seventeen years ago, that Stiles will always be his lever.

If it’s for his son, his spastic hypermanic little boy with a heart that could sink a tanker, what couldn’t he do? What _wouldn’t_ he do?

John Stilinski is about to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> I never bought the idea that the Sheriff would let that busted lip pass. He's seen too much working in law enforcement.


End file.
